Crushed (6 page)

I lift my eyebrows. He’s hinting at something. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Tonight, me and you plus Jenna and Tabs. How’s that sound?”

I’ve hooked up with Jenna before. Nothing too major, just a hand job. Tabs, however, would be a repeat performance. I grin, remembering the way she hooked her fingers under the waistband of her thong and danced for me last time. “Sounds like a plan.”

“What about me?” Alex asks. “I’m the reason you pot-heads even have weed. Don’t you think someone owes me something?”

“I paid for it,” I remind him. “I don’t owe you shit except maybe a blunt or two.”

Brady side-eyes me. “I’ll see if they can find a third girl.”

“What time?” 

Typical Alex. He totally kills the mood with his planning. 

“Ten. After room check. Meet us by the music rooms.”

Lights flicker around campus when we pull into the parking lot. We missed dinner to make our run, so I suggest ordering pizza. It turns out to be a bigger ordeal then anticipated because none of them have money on them, and I gave Alex my last couple of bills to buy the weed.

The pizza guy says we have an hour wait, which is plenty of time for Reid and Alex to cross campus, get their money, and get back. 

Brady, as usual, has no money. His parents don’t believe in unlimited allowance, so we’re always floating him.

While the other two are gone, he breaks into the weed. “Tester round?”

“Naw. I want to be in full control tonight.”

“Good point.” He drops the bag back on my dresser and rocks back and forth on his feet like he’s unsure of something.

“What?”

He messes with the bag, scooting it across the dresser. “You sure nothing’s going on with Cal? You’re both acting weird. She’s like mad, but not mad. And you’re – I don’t know – different.”

We don’t talk about things like this. It’s not what we do. But my heart’s ripping. Something swirls around me, pulling at my insides. Gnawing at me. My eyes sting and I shake my head.

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Maybe if I say it enough, I can make it true.

7

Calista’s sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by neat stacks of pictures with a photo album open in front of her. She keeps her eyes trained on her work. I step through the sea of paper until I stand next to her, and with one quick motion, lift her to my chest. 

But my arms can’t hold her. 

She’s sobbing. I pry the photo album from her hands, and it falls to the floor. Pictures of us fill the page. In one, I’m holding my hands over her breasts and she’s staring into the camera, laughing. In another, she’s straddling my lap. Her dark hair covers both our faces, but it’s clear we’re kissing. In a third, we’re laying down on the chaise, making out.

My kiss doesn’t calm her. 

Calista pushes away and runs from the room. I follow, past the hundreds of girls lining the hallway, screaming at me. Calling me names: man-whore, pig, slut. Over the noise, her strangled sobs meet my ears, and I want — no need — to comfort her, but she runs, faster than me, out into the rain, her shirt untucked and shoes laces untied. The rain mats her already damp hair to her face. 

She’s beautiful.

Half-way across the courtyard, she throws her head back. I can tell she screams because her body shakes and wretches, but the only sound is the pounding rain.

I reach for her, but she’s gone.

And I’m alone. Wanting her. Needing her. Hating her.

8

Alex bites off a huge chunk of burger and says, mouth full, “So Ellie Jacobs tonight? Nice.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Cal. She’s working on her second bowl of cereal. For dinner. She always has two bowls, then a banana and a bottle of water. Every night. Usually Raisin Bran followed by Fruit Loops. Sometimes she starts with Corn Flakes.

Either she didn’t hear Alex, which is unlikely since he’s next to her, or she’s pretending not to. She whispers something to Paige, and they giggle. From the way Paige eyes me, it’s a good guess I’m the topic of conversation.

“How many girls have you hooked-up with this year?” Alex asks before taking another bite. “Two, three, four?” He chews. “There was that junior, Hannah Chan, and Tabs, right? Who else?”

An awkward silence hangs over the table. Cal keeps eating her cereal. Spoonful after spoonful, like talking about my sex life has no effect on her. Paige and Reid exchange worried glances. 

Brady leans across the table. “Don’t be an ass, Alex.” 

“What? Since when isn’t Fletch proud of the girls he messes around with? Besides, we need to tally points. Fletch should get at least ten for Tabs after the way he had her bent over begging for more.” 

“Shut up,” Brady snaps.

I curl my toes in my shoes and press my lips together. Flashes of red dance before my eyes.

“What’s wrong? Fletch should be proud. Besides, I saw him shove her thong into his pocket.”

“Shut the fuck up.” My legs shake as I push back from the table. I need to get out of here. 

Alex laughs and says, just loud enough for everyone near us to hear, “I’m not the one who sleeps with anything that moves.” He tilts his head toward Cal. “Some of us have standards.”

A collective gasp circles around us followed by the obligatory whispers. 

I glare at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means any girl who hooks up with you deserves what she gets.”

My eyes lock with Reid’s. He nods, and I know exactly what’s going on. Alex asked Calista out and she turned him down. He’s calling her a slut. For sleeping with me. I fly around the table and thrust my face toward his until we’re just inches apart. My hands tremble as I grab a fistful of his shirt. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” He pushes my chest, a little too forcefully. 

There’s no sound but my anger coursing through me. Pulsing. Rushing. Harder. My fist slams into Alex’s face, the contact momentarily stunning me. I’ve never hit anyone before.

And then we’re rolling on the ground, tangled up in the chairs. Alex is on top of me, his weight pressing me to the ground. His fist strikes the side of my nose and sticky sweet blood pours down my throat, choking me. 

There’s shouting above us and people pull at us, but all I care about is punching Alex. 

I cock my arm and swing at him, my fist making contact with some part of his body. The back of my head hits the floor. We roll and I’m suddenly on top of Alex, digging my elbow into his chest and pinning him to the ground. I swing at him wildly, not caring where I hit him. 

Brady catches my arm and yanks on me. “C’mon, Fletch, let him up. Let him go.”

Beneath me, Alex lies in a bloody mess. His hair is matted to his head, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. 

The staff’s here. They’re shouting at the students and Mr. Cranston, the assistant headmaster, tears me off Alex.

“Both of you. My office. Now.” His arm grips mine while another teacher holds Alex. 

 Alex spits on the ground. It’s tinged red. 

“Hey, Cal,” he yells back toward our table. “You know you’re no better than him, right?”

Despite being restrained, I lunge at Alex again. Mr. Cranston pulls my arms up behind my back, making me yelp in pain. He’s stronger than he appears.

Color drains from Calista’s face. She’s shaking. Visibly shaking. But her eyes flash with pure anger. At whom, I don’t know.

 Mr. Cranston doesn’t speak to me as we march to his office. He shoves me into a chair and takes his position behind the desk. Alex waits in the hallway with the teacher who restrained him.

“Fighting, as I’m sure you’re aware, is not acceptable behavior, Fletcher.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“As a favor to you, and your father, I won’t list this on your record.” His steely gray eyes bore into me. “However, I expect you to report to detention every Saturday until the end of the semester. If there is any more fighting, or any more disturbances between you and Mr. Stepanov, you will be on notice. This means you will be expelled for the smallest infraction. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” I mumble. Moving my mouth sends shooting pains up through my nose and behind my eyes.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I repeat louder. Oh God, my face aches. 

“Good. Now, make a visit to the nurse’s office. And may I recommend you spend the rest of the day in your room?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You may go.”

In the hallway, Alex leans against the wall. A trickle of blood runs from his nose to the corner of his mouth. Good.

Mr. Devins, the teacher who brought him in, stands between us like a buffer. We don’t acknowledge each other as they file into the office.

The nurse’s office is in another building, and I have to cross The Quad to get there. I’m acutely aware of the attention I draw — the whispers and pointing. 

Everyone’s watching me.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I fighting with Alex? For what? Because he talks shit? Because he likes Calista? So what? So fucking what?

There is someone ahead of me, so I sit in the waiting room, wondering what will happen if Alex walks through the door. Fighting him isn’t worth expulsion, but then again, I didn’t plan on fighting him in the first place. 

“Fletch?” The nurse pokes her head around the door. “Come on in.”

I follow her through the door to a small exam room. Harker has a few nurses on staff, and the medical center consists of two exam rooms and an infirmary for kids who have the flu and stuff.

The nurse touches the swollen and tender area around my left eye and I wince.

“You’re going to have a black eye,” she clucks at me. “Lucky for you, your nose isn’t broken. It’s probably going to hurt for a few days though. Other than that, you only have a few bumps and bruises.”

I take the pills she offers me, with the promise that I’ll come back and get more if the pain becomes unbearable. It won’t. 

When I get to my room, I peer into the tiny mirror on the back of my door. 

The petty part of me thinks Alex looks even worse. But I know he doesn’t.

I should call Calista, but honestly, I don’t want to deal with her right now. Maybe tomorrow, when everything’s settled down. 

The pile of homework lying on my desk provides the distraction I so desperately need. I dive into my American Literature reading, underlining and highlighting my way through the text. 

I may be a fuck-up in every other aspect of my life right now, but school is one thing I’ll never mess up. 

Someone knocks on the door. My eyes land on my alarm clock. Seven twenty-five. 

I groan. Ellie. I completely forgot about her coming over. 

I take stock of my room. Only a week into the school year and my room already has that I’ve-lived-here-forever-and-never-clean look. .

“Wait a minute,” I call through the closed door.

Stacks of blank college applications litter my desk. With one swift movement, I scoop my arm around them and shove the whole mess into an open drawer. Piles of dirty clothes lay scattered across the floor, so I fish an empty basket from my closet and fill it to overflowing, before cramming it back behind the door. The best approach, when confronted with limited time and an immediate need for cleanliness, is disguise, in my opinion. I just hope there’s no reason to open the closet while Ellie’s here.

Even with the balcony door open, a smell reminiscent of a boy’s locker room permeates the space. 

I’m rushing so she doesn’t have to stand in the hallway. Unlike other dorms, mine isn’t co-ed. She’s not supposed to be in here after hours. 

“Fletch?” She pushes the door open. 

I swing my eyes to the doorway. Ellie’s light brown hair hangs in waves down her back and tight jeans hug her long, toned legs. She wears cowboy boots over her jeans, and her unbuttoned jacket reveals a fitted tank top that shows off her tits. 

She waits, legs hip width apart like she’s in charge, and says, “Invite me in?”

“Yeah, of course. Come in.”

She glances down the hallway before stepping into the room. I chuckle finding her actions amusing, since by standing in the hallway she’s already in violation of visiting hours. 

“Close the door.”

Ellie’s eyes grow wide and she hesitates, one arm on the door and her body turned slightly toward the hall. In that moment, she looks torn between staying or running away screaming. 

“It’s after hours. I don’t want to get caught with you here.”

“Oh, right.” A sigh of relief escapes her lips. 

She kicks the door shut then stands with her backpack slung over her shoulder, waiting.

“That’s nasty.” She moves closer to me. “Does it hurt?”

“A little, but nothing’s broken. Just bruised.”

Her eyes meet mine and my heart skips. How did I think I could be alone in a room with a hot girl and not get turned on? 

“That fight looked intense.”

“Yeah. Alex can be an asshole.”

“I thought he was your friend. What happened?”

I scowl. Obviously, she didn’t hear what Alex said or she wouldn’t be here. “He insulted Calista.”

“So you fought because of Calista?” The way she says it, we might as well be talking about the weather.

“Something like that.”

She fidgets with her jacket buttons and stares out the balcony doors. “Are you two going out?”

“No. ”

Ellie exhales. “Good. I didn’t want her to think I’m hanging out with her boyfriend alone, in his room, after hours.” She pauses and adds, “Do you like her?”

“I’ve known her my whole life.”

Ellie cocks her head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Her directness is unnerving. I didn’t. Because I don’t know anymore. 

“Do you want to sit here and talk feelings or study?” I snap.

She frowns and puts her hand on the doorknob. “You know Fletch, if you want to get rid of me, you can just ask me to leave. I won’t be offended.”

“No. Stay. I’m just…” I trail off, unsure of what exactly I am, and point to the two beds – the sloppily made one near the window and the naked vinyl mattress of the other near the door. “Have a seat. Either one is fine.”